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 WE FLY BY DIMMING SUNS 
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Data Realms Elite
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Post Re: WE FLY BY DIMMING SUNS
Let's see what my avatar is.


Mon Dec 14, 2015 2:53 am
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NAME: Makintire "Maki" Hino
AGE: 9613 Cycles

VISUAL IDENTIFICATION: Having spent most of his life in low-grav orbitals Maki measures in at almost 240 centimeters tall, pale sunless skin further cements his place as a spacer, but the intricately tattooed pattern of eyes on his bald-shaven head is what truly sets him apart from others.

BACKGROUND: (Give the system your memories and biography. Something about a pilot's ship or possessions generally reflects them.):
"Deephab ToBo α-18 is unique in many ways, that it spends most of its orbit in deep space being one, and only draws near to a planet once every five years being another, but the most notable uniqueness that can be noted in its occupants. They spend more time in zero-gravity than would even be normal for a spacer, this leads to them having incredible spacial awareness, and generally on reaching maturity they will begin work operating mining pods or as fightercraft pilots."
Maki followed the norm, and over time has spent a good thousand cycles piloting a light security craft, but recently has been press-ganged into military service in the latest wave of drafts.


RESOURCE ALLOCATION:
"SAND BARREL" DISPERSION LAUNCHER - A simple turreted launcher located on the starboard of the Dobrynya, loaded with canisters that detonate into a cloud of charged ferrosilicate nanoparticulate. Though relatively short-lived, the cloud is capable of dispersing energy weapons fire, and anything foolish or unfortunate enough to enter the cloud will find exposed sensors and electronics fouled and rendered inoperable until the built up particulate can be cleaned off. The downsides to this system is that the dispersion effect is two way, so outbound energy weapons fire will be dispersed just as much as incoming.

"Dobrynya, ready to launch."


Tue Dec 15, 2015 1:08 am
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Data Realms Elite
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Post Re: WE FLY BY DIMMING SUNS
Amazigh wrote:
NAME: Makintire "Maki" Hino
AGE: 9613 Cycles

Taking a guess, I'm assuming each cycle is a day, meaning your character is around 26 years old...?


Wed Dec 16, 2015 11:54 am
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Code:
Local nodes confirm that you are on Menippe of the Typhon system.
TEMPS ATOMIQUE INTERNATIONAL 64-BIT TIME: 4000000213e38e2e
UTC 2452-10-11T13:52:11+00:00

ROLL ONE

A gentle rumble of life as the sun barely creeps over the horizon. Chopper blades are warming up for the day's hard work. It is a peaceable hour on a world whose colonists always knew it was a jewel.

This is Walden, the impeccable, imperial nerve center of human occupation: a brilliant city like flashing knives towering over lush tropical jungle. Glittering skyscrapers of steel and composites merge seamlessly into industrial zones - docks hang inches over the water, robotic arms tending to brightly-colored research vessels and submersibles. Banners of electric cloth show the proud seals of the Solar Party in red, green and gold, though the phosphorescence of plankton in the blasted artificial bay competes in the night with their glow. Ecology meets industry here; automated crawlers, drones and helicopter fleets work over this wild paradise, tapping drugs and exotic genotypes from the bounty of Menippe, a garden world more habitable than Earth in its beautiful prime.

You are entrenched to protect her. In this planet's only transorbital defense bunker, a unit of the Reserves huddles around three massive atmo carriers - the Halberd, the Kilimanjaro, and the Berliner, each rigged to carry six Kropotkins into inevitable battle with the Stone Pact.


Cpl. Macintire Hino=.STATUS/.]
A deep, resonant hissing. You were asleep, and now you aren’t. Your breaths are starting to come up short. This doesn’t happen often.

Okay, let’s put this together. You’re in your bunk, swaddled in spare reflective blankets and antiflak sheets. Your tongue is dry. The water is starting to peel off of it. The hissing was coming from your own tissues. Your eyes are starting to itch. What’s going on?

They partitioned the barracks – an ugly holding chamber hewn from the solid rock of the Jormungandr cave system – into untidy little “rooms” with walls of heavy plastic tarp. Agglomerations of tents and little structures pockmark the space beyond the bunker. Out there, the jackboots of patrolmen crunch stones in the gloom. Your space, of course, is right next to Annalise’s, in the well-heated corner of the cavernous hall beneath the oxygen vent.

A strained gasp from her sector. It’s your copilot. She should be awake too. You’re wheezing, hard. This is no good.

SOLDIER

SHIP


Cpl. Floyd "Flo" Matsumoto=.STATUS/.]
There is water trickling into the A2 barracks. It begins as a dark drip oozing its way across the ceiling, but soon the smell of ozone fills the room and the window panes (which look out into the dust of the cave) begin to rattle under the rain that beats them so savagely. Another smell. Saltwater. No, sweat. No, something viscous, rich and red, accompanied by the rising taste of pennies.

It’s starting to pool on the floor.

No one else has noticed – they’re fast asleep, just like you were before an icy droplet fell on your lips. You’re lying on the bottom of a shelf of stone. You know the door to this structure is locked. Usually there’s no way you could get anything out of the soulless drone they have stowed above you. Tonight the machine pilot will have to make an exception and lift you to high ground.

Are you going to do something? You don’t remember seeing this much water in your life.

SOLDIER

SHIP


Cpl. Judith Trovare=.STATUS/.]
You sleep in the shadow of a towering water processor that gurgles monotonously like an aimless stream, muffling pillows compacted around your head to the point of suffocation hazard. Your term at this base has been the grounds for one long noise complaint. Sleep is difficult.

It’s the dead of night, but it’s beyond dark in your tent.

You turn over quietly and wipe at your right eye, pressing at the globe and expecting a familiar explosion of color. Instead there is a hollowness. An ugly, filmy quality from a membrane over the socket that you pinch with a horrified expression gradually forming. What? The bandages are back? No. No.

There’s a steadily rising hum, a chatter. Old station sounds and a fluorescent light gradually brightening in your good eye. The dull roar of altitude-adjustment engines and crushed crowds. Where’s your copilot? Yes, Davisson. He’s in the next tent. There are angry voices and people brushing up against the cloth. What happened?

SOLDIER

SHIP


Cpl. Yuri Prostraov=.STATUS/.]
You’re asleep in the battered collapsible unit next to the elevator sentry post, the poor aluminum shelter that you and Sign call home. A lurch, and your eyes snap open. A sick rolling feeling, like evasive action in an atmo assault jet, screaming across the sky at Mach Four and plastered to your seat. Your stomach turns and you feel like you’re about to sink spine-first into your mattress.

A second wave. Your iron bedframe shudders, tips and falls - onto you. Crunch. You’re spinning out. Where’s Sign? She got pulled out of her bed straight to the ceiling, still comatose in slow-wave sleep. You shove the bars off of your bruised chest and see stars streaking by the window. This isn’t right. Your orientation is broken. Which way down?

You’ve got to pull her back to ground without killing yourselves. How?

SOLDIER

SHIP


Cpl. Mike Richards=.STATUS/.]
An alarm bell is ringing in your mind. You shift under your reflective blanket, ill at ease, the first beads of cold sweat starting to collect on the lines of your forehead. This heavy gravity is making you sick. Reassignment to planetside duty hasn’t been easy for you, a brittle spacefarer with weak bones.

You sleep in a converted ammunition locker with thick walls of deadened steel. But there’s a buzzing tonight – a grating, staccato sound that resonates in your teeth, that refuses to leave you be. A wrongness. The whole base must be on edge.

Knocking at the door. You look. The face of the major at the window splits into a rubbery smile. He’s armed, and taps the glass with the grip of his handgun.

“Open up, buddy.”

Over his shoulder is a towering military policeman in a black visor. The MP holds up an unintelligible paper covered in red marks and motions for you to step outside.

Where’s Shevchuk? Your copilot? Have they spoken to him? Yes, they have. He’s got a hand up to his face – yes, bleeding from the nose. All over his uniform.

Are you going to see what they want, or do you have something else in mind? Your frame is looming over your bed. It’ll take a minute to warm it up.

SOLDIER



Cpl. Nico “Smith”=.STATUS/.]
You sway back and forth miserably in your dreams, tugging at controls that break down in your splinter-filled hands. You’re sealed in the cockpit. Back and forth, weaving between waves of missiles and invisible streams of lethal particles. The turning forces are too high. Your ribs are crumpling. The bile is rising in your throat. Blackness curling at the edges of your vision. Screens are going out too, giving up hot sparks, the reek of burning plastic. But you just know if you can get out of this trap, you’ll be able to get to the medevac quickly enough for them to scrape together…

A stray mining torpedo catches you and you are killed instantly endlessly. Smeared across the stars. You snap awake, surrounded by bottles and ash in your bed. No one shares this tent with you. You were demoted, not trusted to fly with other human beings. Your copilot Aleph is bottled up in a processor bank two sections across from the barracks.


”Nico?”
Sounds like old times. No. Can’t be. Where is she? You feel a warm, warm hand on your shoulder. You roll over in bed and there are
bits of her
all over everywhere

You open your mouth and nothing comes out.

Did you kill her? What do you do? Are you going to tell anyone? Where’s your arm? You’ve got to clean this mess up. You can’t even tell if it’s Fox.

SOLDIER

SHIP


Last edited by TheKebbit on Thu Jan 07, 2016 3:35 am, edited 14 times in total.



Fri Dec 18, 2015 5:31 am
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Post Re: WE FLY BY DIMMING SUNS
> Peer outside the tent, try not to make myself seen. Get a look at what's outside.


Fri Dec 18, 2015 5:50 am
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Data Realms Elite
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Post Re: WE FLY BY DIMMING SUNS
So everyone gets two personal traits at the start, either items or skills or augmentations?

Let's hope my two help me fulfil my dream of being a Starfleet Engineer :p


Fri Dec 18, 2015 8:42 am
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> Can't have my copilot breaking on me, now can I? Push myself up to the ceiling and protect her from debris with my body, and break her fall if we come crashing down.


Fri Dec 18, 2015 10:40 pm
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This is wrong. I need to get out of here.
>Attempt to rise that bucket of bolts as I check on my supplies. Determine how quickly this fluid is rising-and how much time we have.
whisper: Drone. Get up, something is not right.


Sat Dec 19, 2015 5:53 am
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Post Re: WE FLY BY DIMMING SUNS
Hey Keb, I've got a question that should be easy to answer, but is important; how does FTL work? Looking at the components of our ships I assume they're sublight only, with the carriers and other large vessels being the FTL capable ships, but I was hoping you could give us some more detailed information. Is it a Star Wars style hyperdrive, or are there lanes and the like that need to be considered?


Mon Dec 21, 2015 11:50 am
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A mix of FTL and relativistic engines are employed across the universe, but humanity primarily relies on the Alcubierre drive (a space-folding engine that builds up huge charges of radiation as it flies) and a grid of stable wormholes of varying diameter that form links between vital systems. Your current system is a major node on the Earth Authority network, with wormhole lanes projecting almost to the interstellar frontier where the assault fleets are locked in pitched combat with the Stone Pact.

There is a visible difference between an ordinary "spaceship" and what NPCs will refer to as a "starship" - the latter is vastly larger, defined by the alien geometry of modern Alcubierre drives, heavily armed with weapons of mass destruction, often completely self-supplied and captained by humanity's best. The atmo carriers in your squadron are not true FTL-capable starships but can (and do) traverse wormholes.

STL engine technology is similarly variable. Ion, plasma and chemical thrusters linger in military applications, while nuclear thermal rockets dominate - the majority of ships are powered by nuclear fission, a smaller fraction use fusion, and the very tip of the fleet's spear runs on confined annihilation of antimatter.


Mon Dec 21, 2015 8:00 pm
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Ah, so the wormholes act as interstellar highways for a lack of better terms, through which the vast majority of traffic both military and civilian travel through, whilst standalone FTL drives are the equivalent of off-roading, got it :D


Mon Dec 21, 2015 8:11 pm
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Post Re: WE FLY BY DIMMING SUNS
>Look up. Is there anything obviously wrong with the vent?
>Get up. Check on Annalise.


Wed Dec 23, 2015 4:37 am
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The first roll is complete! Caek and maart3n, you can action now.

I really like the idea of minirolls. You may see a few of these as we go along.


Wed Dec 23, 2015 5:20 am
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"I'm coming, just give me a sec, let me get into my suit first so I don't break my bones climbing out of this thing. My homeplanet has half the mass of Luna, and that means..."

Mike sighs as he struggles to climb out of bed, long legs tangled, then he limps into his exoskeleton...and the jerky, unnatural movements of a man unaccustomed to regular gravity become almost as fluid and smooth as those of a normal human being. He strides over to the door, tethered to the wall by the suit's grey charging cable, and opens it without much difficulty, saluting the major before glancing at his copilot's bloody face...then he turns back to his superior and stands up straight.

"...with all due respect, if this is about another fight with the technicians from the 22nd Reserve Wing, sir, they probably started it."

Odds are it might be just another bar brawl that took part outside the base last night, so there's no reason to be concerned. Stay calm, stay cooperative and just talk it through.


Wed Dec 23, 2015 1:50 pm
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"No! No! No! No! You're not real! This is not real! I love you, please don't leave. You're dead! "
Throw a few bottles around for good measure.


Thu Dec 24, 2015 3:53 am
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